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BRUTUS: We stay here for the people. |
MONTAGUE: Ay, now my sovereign speaketh like himself; And now will I be Edward's champion. |
LEONTES: Ha! |
KATHARINA: Fie, fie! unknit that threatening unkind brow, And dart not scornful glances from those eyes, To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor: It blots thy beauty as frosts do bite the meads, Confounds thy fame as whirlwinds shake fair buds, And in no sense is meet or amiable. A woman moved is like a fountain troubled, Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty; And while it is so, none so dry or thirsty Will deign to sip or touch one drop of it. Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper, Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee, And for thy maintenance commits his body To painful labour both by sea and land, To watch the night in storms, the day in cold, Whilst thou liest warm at home, secure and safe; And craves no other tribute at thy hands But love, fair looks and true obedience; Too little payment for so great a debt. Such duty as the subject owes the prince Even such a woman oweth to her husband; And when she is froward, peevish, sullen, sour, And not obedient to his honest will, What is she but a foul contending rebel And graceless traitor to her loving lord? I am ashamed that women are so simple To offer war where they should kneel for peace; Or seek for rule, supremacy and sway, When they are bound to serve, love and obey. Why are our bodies soft and weak and smooth, Unapt to toil and trouble in the world, But that our soft conditions and our hearts Should well agree with our external parts? Come, come, you froward and unable worms! My mind hath been as big as one of yours, My heart as great, my reason haply more, To bandy word for word and frown for frown; But now I see our lances are but straws, Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare, That seeming to be most which we indeed least are. Then vail your stomachs, for it is no boot, And place your hands below your husband's foot: In token of which duty, if he please, My hand is ready; may it do him ease. |
SEBASTIAN: He receives comfort like cold porridge. |
BIONDELLO: |
PETRUCHIO: What, art thou ashamed of me? |
CORIOLANUS: Give me thy hand: Come. |
CAPULET: No, not a whit: what! I have watch'd ere now All night for lesser cause, and ne'er been sick. |
BUCKINGHAM: Refuse not, mighty lord, this proffer'd love. |
LUCIO: Ay, why not? Grace is grace, despite of all controversy: as, for example, thou thyself art a wicked villain, despite of all grace. |
AUTOLYCUS: Lawn as white as driven snow; Cyprus black as e'er was crow; Gloves as sweet as damask roses; Masks for faces and for noses; Bugle bracelet, necklace amber, Perfume for a lady's chamber; Golden quoifs and stomachers, For my lads to give their dears: Pins and poking-sticks of steel, What maids lack from head to heel: Come buy of me, come; come buy, come buy; Buy lads, or else your lasses cry: Come buy. |
LADY ANNE: I have already. |
POMPEY: Here comes Signior Claudio, led by the provost to prison; and there's Madam Juliet. |
QUEEN MARGARET: Poor painted queen, vain flourish of my fortune! Why strew'st thou sugar on that bottled spider, Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about? Fool, fool! thou whet'st a knife to kill thyself. The time will come when thou shalt wish for me To help thee curse that poisonous bunchback'd toad. |
VOLUMNIA: Bastards and all. Good man, the wounds that he does bear for Rome! |
CLARENCE: But not, as I am, royal. |
ANGELO: Plainly conceive, I love you. |
HENRY BOLINGBROKE: Lords, you that here are under our arrest, Procure your sureties for your days of answer. Little are we beholding to your love, And little look'd for at your helping hands. |
POLIXENES: Dear my brother, Let him that was the cause of this have power To take off so much grief from you as he Will piece up in himself. |
LUCIO: I grant; as there may between the lists and the velvet. Thou art the list. |
CLARENCE: That he consents, if Warwick yield consent; For on thy fortune I repose myself. |
PETRUCHIO: Grumio, my horse. |
MENENIUS: Come, come, peace. |
Page: My lord, I know a discontented gentleman, Whose humble means match not his haughty mind: Gold were as good as twenty orators, And will, no doubt, tempt him to any thing. |
CORIOLANUS: I had rather have one scratch my head i' the sun When the alarum were struck than idly sit To hear my nothings monster'd. |
ISABELLA: What is your will? |
CURTIS: Both of one horse? |
DUCHESS: Yet one word more: grief boundeth where it falls, Not with the empty hollowness, but weight: I take my leave before I have begun, For sorrow ends not when it seemeth done. Commend me to thy brother, Edmund York. Lo, this is all:--nay, yet depart not so; Though this be all, do not so quickly go; I shall remember more. Bid him--ah, what?-- With all good speed at Plashy visit me. Alack, and what shall good old York there see But empty lodgings and unfurnish'd walls, Unpeopled offices, untrodden stones? And what hear there for welcome but my groans? Therefore commend me; let him not come there, To seek out sorrow that dwells every where. Desolate, desolate, will I hence and die: The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye. |
DUKE VINCENTIO: That we were all, as some would seem to be, From our faults, as faults from seeming, free! |
First Gentleman: How now! which of your hips has the most profound sciatica? |
BRUTUS: You see how he intends to use the people. |
JOHN OF GAUNT: Call it a travel that thou takest for pleasure. |
BIONDELLO: Who? that Petruchio came? |
TRANIO: Mistress, we have. |
CLAUDIO: What but to speak of would offend again. |
FRIAR LAURENCE: Not in a grave, To lay one in, another out to have. |
KING EDWARD IV: But you will take exceptions to my boon. |
KING HENRY VI: This battle fares like to the morning's war, When dying clouds contend with growing light, What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, Can neither call it perfect day nor night. Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea Forced by the tide to combat with the wind; Now sways it that way, like the selfsame sea Forced to retire by fury of the wind: Sometime the flood prevails, and then the wind; Now one the better, then another best; Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast, Yet neither conqueror nor conquered: So is the equal of this fell war. Here on this molehill will I sit me down. To whom God will, there be the victory! For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too, Have chid me from the battle; swearing both They prosper best of all when I am thence. Would I were dead! if God's good will were so; For what is in this world but grief and woe? O God! methinks it were a happy life, To be no better than a homely swain; To sit upon a hill, as I do now, To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, Thereby to see the minutes how they run, How many make the hour full complete; How many hours bring about the day; How many days will finish up the year; How many years a mortal man may live. When this is known, then to divide the times: So many hours must I tend my flock; So many hours must I take my rest; So many hours must I contemplate; So many hours must I sport myself; So many days my ewes have been with young; So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean: So many years ere I shall shear the fleece: So minutes, hours, days, months, and years, Pass'd over to the end they were created, Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. Ah, what a life were this! how sweet! how lovely! Gives not the hawthorn-bush a sweeter shade To shepherds looking on their silly sheep, Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy To kings that fear their subjects' treachery? O, yes, it doth; a thousand-fold it doth. And to conclude, the shepherd's homely curds, His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle. His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, All which secure and sweetly he enjoys, Is far beyond a prince's delicates, His viands sparkling in a golden cup, His body couched in a curious bed, When care, mistrust, and treason waits on him. |
LOVEL: Come, come, dispatch; 'tis bootless to exclaim. |
CLIFFORD: How now! is he dead already? or is it fear That makes him close his eyes? I'll open them. |
BIANCA: Am I your bird? I mean to shift my bush; And then pursue me as you draw your bow. You are welcome all. |
HORTENSIO: The motion's good indeed and be it so, Petruchio, I shall be your ben venuto. |
CAMILLO: My lord, Fear none of this: I think you know my fortunes Do all lie there: it shall be so my care To have you royally appointed as if The scene you play were mine. For instance, sir, That you may know you shall not want, one word. |
COMINIUS: I think 'twill serve, if he Can thereto frame his spirit. |
PETRUCHIO: Do, good old grandsire; and withal make known Which way thou travellest: if along with us, We shall be joyful of thy company. |
Nurse: Anon, anon! Come, let's away; the strangers all are gone. |
VALERIA: Come, lay aside your stitchery; I must have you play the idle husewife with me this afternoon. |
MISTRESS OVERDONE: Well, well; there's one yonder arrested and carried to prison was worth five thousand of you all. |
LUCIO: |
A Player: So please your lordship to accept our duty. |
CORIOLANUS: Your horror's pardon: I had rather have my wounds to heal again Than hear say how I got them. |
TYRREL: Ay, my lord; But I had rather kill two enemies. |
NORTHUMBERLAND: Yield to our mercy, proud Plantagenet. |
GLOUCESTER: Even so; an't please your worship, Brakenbury, You may partake of any thing we say: We speak no treason, man: we say the king Is wise and virtuous, and his noble queen Well struck in years, fair, and not jealous; We say that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot, A cherry lip, a bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue; And that the queen's kindred are made gentle-folks: How say you sir? Can you deny all this? |
GRUMIO: Error i' the bill, sir; error i' the bill. I commanded the sleeves should be cut out and sewed up again; and that I'll prove upon thee, though thy little finger be armed in a thimble. |
Ghost of RIVERS: |
QUEEN ELIZABETH: O no, my reasons are too deep and dead; Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their grave. |
PAULINA: Do not you fear: upon mine honour, I will stand betwixt you and danger. |
POLIXENES: O, not by much. |
GLOUCESTER: As much unto my good lord chamberlain! Well are you welcome to the open air. How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment? |
LADY GREY: Then, no, my lord. My suit is at an end. |
KING RICHARD II: Give me the crown. Here, cousin, seize the crown; Here cousin: On this side my hand, and on that side yours. Now is this golden crown like a deep well That owes two buckets, filling one another, The emptier ever dancing in the air, The other down, unseen and full of water: That bucket down and full of tears am I, Drinking my griefs, whilst you mount up on high. |
MARCIUS: How lies their battle? know you on which side They have placed their men of trust? |
QUEEN ELIZABETH: God grant him health! Did you confer with him? |
TRANIO: Sir, this is the house: please it you that I call? |
AEdile: I shall inform them. |
BRUTUS: What then, sir? |
QUEEN MARGARET: Enforced thee! art thou king, and wilt be forced? I shame to hear thee speak. Ah, timorous wretch! Thou hast undone thyself, thy son and me; And given unto the house of York such head As thou shalt reign but by their sufferance. To entail him and his heirs unto the crown, What is it, but to make thy sepulchre And creep into it far before thy time? Warwick is chancellor and the lord of Calais; Stern Falconbridge commands the narrow seas; The duke is made protector of the realm; And yet shalt thou be safe? such safety finds The trembling lamb environed with wolves. Had I been there, which am a silly woman, The soldiers should have toss'd me on their pikes Before I would have granted to that act. But thou preferr'st thy life before thine honour: And seeing thou dost, I here divorce myself Both from thy table, Henry, and thy bed, Until that act of parliament be repeal'd Whereby my son is disinherited. The northern lords that have forsworn thy colours Will follow mine, if once they see them spread; And spread they shall be, to thy foul disgrace And utter ruin of the house of York. Thus do I leave thee. Come, son, let's away; Our army is ready; come, we'll after them. |
ISABELLA: One that I would were here, Friar Lodowick. |
LORD ROSS: He hath not money for these Irish wars, His burthenous taxations notwithstanding, But by the robbing of the banish'd duke. |
POLIXENES: She dances featly. |
Third Citizen: Then, masters, look to see a troublous world. |
Third Servant: Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood, Scratching her legs that one shall swear she bleeds, And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep, So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn. |
JULIET: My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound: Art thou not Romeo and a Montague? |
DUKE OF YORK: My lords of England, let me tell you this: I have had feeling of my cousin's wrongs And laboured all I could to do him right; But in this kind to come, in braving arms, Be his own carver and cut out his way, To find out right with wrong, it may not be; And you that do abet him in this kind Cherish rebellion and are rebels all. |
ESCALUS: I guess not. |
PERDITA: Your pardon, sir; for this I'll blush you thanks. |
Second Citizen: You shall ha' it, worthy sir. |
JULIET: Romeo! |
QUEEN MARGARET: O, but impatience waiteth on true sorrow. And see where comes the breeder of my sorrow! |
QUEEN ELIZABETH: If he were dead, what would betide of me? |
First Citizen: Ourselves, our wives, and children, on our knees, Are bound to pray for you both. |
ROMEO: Out-- |
Messenger: Environed he was with many foes, And stood against them, as the hope of Troy Against the Greeks that would have enter'd Troy. But Hercules himself must yield to odds; And many strokes, though with a little axe, Hew down and fell the hardest-timber'd oak. By many hands your father was subdued; But only slaughter'd by the ireful arm Of unrelenting Clifford and the queen, Who crown'd the gracious duke in high despite, Laugh'd in his face; and when with grief he wept, The ruthless queen gave him to dry his cheeks A napkin steeped in the harmless blood Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford slain: And after many scorns, many foul taunts, They took his head, and on the gates of York They set the same; and there it doth remain, The saddest spectacle that e'er I view'd. |
COMINIUS: Who's yonder, That does appear as he were flay'd? O gods He has the stamp of Marcius; and I have Before-time seen him thus. |
MENENIUS: I will tell you If you'll bestow a small--of what you have little-- Patience awhile, you'll hear the belly's answer. |
HENRY BOLINGBROKE: Good aunt, stand up. |
KING RICHARD III: What is't o'clock? |
MIRANDA: Beseech you, father. |
LUCIO: Not better than he, by her own report. |
QUEEN ELIZABETH: My daughter's mother thinks it with her soul. |
Clown: How do you now? |
KING RICHARD III: I swear-- |
Shepherd: An't please you, sir, to undertake the business for us, here is that gold I have: I'll make it as much more and leave this young man in pawn till I bring it you. |
LUCIO: Thou concludest like the sanctimonious pirate, that went to sea with the Ten Commandments, but scraped one out of the table. |
GLOUCESTER: Look to the drawbridge there! |
SAMPSON: A dog of that house shall move me to stand: I will take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's. |
First Senator: Speak, good Cominius: Leave nothing out for length, and make us think Rather our state's defective for requital Than we to stretch it out. Masters o' the people, We do request your kindest ears, and after, Your loving motion toward the common body, To yield what passes here. |
VINCENTIO: Ay, mistress bride, hath that awaken'd you? |
Subsets and Splits